A few days after Catherine began working as a civil servant in the Victor territory—
The woman renowned as the academy's greatest prodigy was clutching her head inside the office.
"The Demon Forest… and this barren land… It's worse than I imagined."
"Right?"
For some reason, Arcus answered proudly.
His tone and manners had already begun to crumble. He was trying his best to act proper, but Arcus was never the type who could keep up a façade for long. That was precisely why, back at the academy, he had avoided interacting with others whenever possible.
That said, compared to how he behaved around Harrison and the others, this was still relatively restrained. Even Arcus had some sense of propriety.
"Our poverty is famous even within this country," he added.
Catherine shot him a look that seemed to say this isn't something to boast about, and Arcus merely shrugged in response.
"So your main source of income is… the carcasses of demonic beasts from the Demon Forest?"
As Catherine flipped through the stack of documents on her desk, she let out a low groan.
Most of the territory's residents cultivated the poor soil as best they could, growing wheat and the like—but it was never enough. As a result, many hunted demonic beasts in the forest, ate the meat, and sold the skins and tusks to traveling merchants to buy what crops they lacked.
In such a state, tax revenue was almost nonexistent.
"Then how do you pay the knights and servants?"
"That would be me."
Arcus puffed out his chest again.
Catherine tilted her head—then, once she understood that Arcus himself hunted demonic beasts and converted the proceeds directly into wages, she clutched her head once more.
"This is… terribly improvised."
Her words slipped out before she could stop them, and Arcus could only answer with a bitter smile.
In truth, his father Alain worked tirelessly, researching ways to improve the land—but results were scarce. Arcus, a reincarnated soul, tried to help with half-remembered knowledge, but when it came to agriculture, he was a complete amateur.
Patchwork knowledge was little more than pouring water on a hot stone.
"For now… may I see your local specialties?"
At Catherine's request, Arcus hesitated—but nodded and led her out of the room.
(Honestly, this isn't something you show a noble lady.)
Whether she sensed his thoughts or not, the sound of Catherine's footsteps was oddly cheerful.
"Now then—this is where the demonic beast materials I brought back are stored."
Arcus gestured toward a large warehouse behind the mansion. It housed not only his own spoils, but those of the knights as well.
"Here."
What he handed Catherine was a neatly folded piece of cloth.
"A traveling merchant will be arriving soon, so it's fairly stocked… I've done some basic processing."
With a wry smile, Arcus pushed open the double doors.
A powerful stench burst forth.
"W–What is this smell—?!"
As Catherine choked, Arcus turned back with a strained smile.
"Our specialty."
Skins. Tusks. Horns. Fur. Bones.
Various parts stripped from demonic beasts. Though partially processed, they were still remnants of corpses. The smell was unavoidable.
The odor nearly knocked Catherine unconscious.
With a resigned sigh, Arcus entered alone and returned holding a freshly harvested hide.
"This one's from yesterday."
What he offered the teary-eyed Catherine was glossy black leather. As she instinctively inhaled at the vivid texture, her hair turned black.
"Oh? A Black Serpent. Boy, you're more capable than I thought."
Eleonora laughed loudly.
"Much obliged," Arcus replied lazily.
"Mind if I take a look inside?"
Unlike Catherine, Eleonora seemed unfazed by the stench. Without waiting for permission, she vanished into the warehouse. When she returned, her brow was furrowed.
"I see parts from high-ranking beasts… even large magic stones. Why are you still struggling?"
Arcus answered her with a sigh.
A corpse was still a corpse.
Once processing and preparation costs were considered, skins and tusks fetched next to nothing. High-ranking beasts required advanced techniques—and enormous expenses—to dismantle properly. Poor extraction ruined even the finest materials.
"Stripping has improved," Arcus said, "but you never know when you'll be attacked."
He went on to explain the lack of demand. The same applied to magic stones. High-grade stones had been valuable a generation ago.
Now, technology allowed efficient conversion of mid-grade stones. Prices plummeted. High-grade stones, difficult to process and incompatible with converters, were treated as ultra-high-risk industrial waste.
Materials required both skill and capital to process.
Meaning: prices rose. And expensive materials led to expensive products—things only eccentric nobles or niche weapon makers wanted.
In short, they were barely surviving on underpriced mid-grade stones and minor weapon demand.
"Processing… preparation… demand," Catherine murmured.
"Even setting aside magic stones, if we could handle everything from harvesting to processing, there's huge growth potential."
Though sharing one body, the two exchanged ideas seamlessly—until Eleonora suddenly looked up.
"Boy. I remembered something. Come with me."
Before Arcus could answer, Eleonora snapped her fingers.
Light surged from the ground, engulfing them—
"Hey—!"
His protest echoed into nothingness.
When the light faded, Arcus found himself staring at crumbling ruins.
"Where… are we?"
"A remote island east of the continent."
"Teleportation magic?"
"Only places I've visited before."
With that, Eleonora strode into the ruins. Arcus hurried after her.
Though Eleonora controlled the body, it was still Catherine's.
Weaponless—holding only Black Serpent leather—and utterly unprepared, Arcus pressed on.
Then he noticed something.
"There's presence… but no attacks."
Eleonora puffed out her chest.
"Small fry fear my mana."
(So that's why we weren't attacked back then…)
The realization hit him: there had been no demonic attacks since helping Catherine.
The tensionless dungeon crawl ended quickly.
Before them lay a small chamber—and a stone coffin at its center, lid already open.
"This place?"
"Yes. Where I hid our trump card."
Grinning, Eleonora told him to move the coffin.
Assuming no trap this late, Arcus pushed with all his might.
"Heavy—damn it—!"
"Oh? You moved it alone?" Eleonora said in admiration.
Noticing faint mana around her, Arcus realized she'd planned to buff him.
Then do it first, he thought irritably.
Beneath the coffin was a small hole.
"What's this… parchment?"
"A scroll, barbarian," Eleonora sighed, snatching it away.
She opened two scrolls and tossed one to Arcus.
『Production Magic』
"An ancient magic scroll. Channel mana and it activates."
Arcus nodded and did so.
Light enveloped him—an odd floating sensation—then vanished.
"You should now be able to use production magic."
Eleonora nodded smugly.
Meanwhile, Arcus groaned.
(That's great, but how do I use it?)
Without meaning to, he opened his status window.
There it was:
Production Magic: Beginner
And a new tab—Craft.
More importantly—
"What is that?"
Eleonora stared, stunned.
In this era, no one could even see a status window.
(I messed up.)
Unlike Arcus's grimace, Eleonora leaned closer, muttering until she concluded—
"A rare form of magic."
A strange system, etched into the soul.
"That's creepy."
"No malice detected."
"Still…"
Arcus fiddled with the Craft tab.
The leather in his hand glowed—and transformed into beautifully tanned hide.
"Perfectly processed…"
Eleonora nodded proudly.
"With practice, you can make tools too."
"Seriously?!"
Arcus spun around so fast Eleonora flinched.
With this, ideas he'd only imagined could finally become real.
(This is insane.)
Then he remembered something.
"The other scroll?"
"A copy."
"Copy?"
"Replicates magic into a scroll."
A thought struck him.
"Think you can copy this?"
He pointed at the status window.
Eleonora grinned.
"Thought so."
Things moved fast after that.
They copied Arcus's upgraded status and applied it to Eleonora—then Catherine.
"Status open."
A window appeared.
With a Craft tab.
"Wait—that means—"
"Hold."
Eleonora switched out.
Catherine, who had followed everything, opened her window instantly.
"Lord Arcus…"
Both stared.
"…Isn't your mana value… broken?"
The number was completely unreadable.
That Catherine's status was even more absurd than his own was a realization Arcus quietly accepted—with slumped shoulders.